The Raven
by Potter-Pikachu
Summary: Sirius Black and poetry? A disgrace to art or a humorous way to perform literature...you be the judge. Read and Enjoy!


The Raven

By: Potter/Pikachu

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Romeo. Harry Potter and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and "The Raven" belongs to Edgar Allan Poe.

A/N: I dunno, I was just in the middle of summer school reading in my literacy book, when I saw the poem by Edgar Allan Poe, all of a sudden, this popped up! For those who haven't read my story Harry Potter and the Demon Knights, Romeo is my original character. He's a Devlin, which is a half human half demon. He's black five four, blond cornrows, and tale with a fiery tip. If you want more description of him, you can go to chapter five in Harry Potter and the Demon Knights…or read the whole thing while your at it, heh . On to the story!

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Sirius Black was sitting comfortably in a cushioned high back ornate chair. The room he resided in was cozy, with rugs that matched the chair. There was also a large stone, currently lit, fireplace, and grand bookshelves lined the walls. Of course, Sirius having never touched paper with writing on it unless it involved motorcycles or attractive women, was not reading any of the books, but rather putting his full concentration on solving an a rubik's cub…and deftly not getting anywhere with it.

**Once upon a midnight dreary**

"WHOA!" Sirius jumped out of his seat as the thunderous words echoed off the walls of his abode. He stood up quickly, looking to and fro for the owner of the deep voice, almost tripping over his eighteenth century looking robes. "Who the bloody freak said that!?" he exclaimed to the empty space. Minutes ticked by and there remained to be no answer. A part of him felt silly for being so jumpy, but then another part reminded him that he was indeed without a wand, and that if the voice eventually proved to have a body along with it, he would be thoroughly screwed.

Several more minutes went by in tense silence. Sirius relaxed a little, and prepared to return to his earlier form of entertainment, when a hand grasped his arm and whirled him around. He bit back his yell of surprise, substituting it for a gasp. It wouldn't do well to scream in his godson's face.

"Harry!? What are you doing here? Was that you talking?" Sirius spoke, his voice going in a higher pitch because of his hysteria. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders and shook him, "Tell me child! There's no time to loose!"

Harry calmly relinquished Sirius' death grip from his shoulders, and gave him a good slap across the face. "Sirius, calm down. That wasn't me, that was the narrator."

Sirius blinked confusedly, massaging his sore cheek with his hand, "Narrator?" He looked around the small room, seeing no one but Harry. "What narrator? There's no narrator here."

"You know, the narrator for Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven"."

Sirius stared at him blankly, "Edgar…who now?"

"He's a famous author."

Sirius' expression didn't change.

"The guy who rights all the depressing books and poems, like Lenore, The Red Death…this ringing any bells?" Harry tried to explain.

Sirius still looked at him blankly. "Not following."

Harry sighed, "They had his poem on the Simpson's once."

A light bulb seemed to click on in Sirius' head, "Ohhhhhhh, _that_ Edgar Allan Poe. I gottcha now."

"Okay, bye." Harry started to leave, but Sirius grabbed him by the shirtsleeve.

"Wait, wait, wait a minute! What's going on? Why's there a narrator?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "You weren't paying attention at all at the seminar, were you?"

"Course I was!" Sirius protested with conviction. A second later, a sheepish expression washed over his features, "Uh…which seminar was that again?"

Harry slapped his forehead with his hand, "That's my point exactly. You signed up for that literary project where you have to reenact a popular poem from the eighteen hundreds."

He pondered this for a moment, then gave Harry an accusing stare, "That doesn't sound like something I'd do, you must have used the Imperious curse on me."

"Look, it's not my fault you weren't paying attention when you signed up."

Sirius paused, then said, "So…it was drugs then!"

Harry shook his head and gave his godfather a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Just go along with it. The poems short, it'll be over before you know it. And who knows, you might have fun."

"Yeah right," Sirius muttered. "What am I supposed to do anyway?"

"Just sit back down in your chair, look morose and contemplative, and follow along with the narrator, it should come to you," Harry said as he started to leave. "Oh, and if you must talk, try and do it in rhyme."

Sirius returned to his seat and hesitated picking up his rubik's cube. '_Morose and contemplative eh?_' He leaned back in the chair and attempted to imitate those descriptions into an expression – the end result making him instead look hungry and horny – as the '_narrator's_' deep voice sounded in its deep and monotonous tones.

**Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary  
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore-**

"'The hell's a lore?" Sirius thought aloud. The narrator didn't answer his question, merely continuing with the monologue.

**While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping  
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door**

Just as the soliloquy predicted, a knocking sounded on the door across the room. Sirius jumped for the second time that night, but then remembered this was apart of the act and, as Harry had told him, went along with the gig as if he knew it by heart.

"Uh, 'T is some jerk off – I mean visitor," **I muttered,** "tapping at my chamber door –only this and nothing more."

**Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;  
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.  
Eagerly I wished the morrow – vainly I had sought to borrow**  
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore-  
**For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-**

"Lenore?" Sirius looked at the wall above the fireplace. Posted there was a large portrait of a young woman, who appeared quite similar to Ivory, right down to the blue streaked hair and goofy pose. Sirius gave a little tiger growl, "Oooh, Lenore. Nice."

**Nameless here for evermore.**

**Then the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain  
Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;**

The actions said were repeated in the room. Sirius propped himself on his knees and peered over his chair, nervously looking about the supposedly empty room.

**So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,**  
" 'T is some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door **–** Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door **–** This it is and nothing more."

**Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,**  
"Uh, Sir," **said I, **"or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;  
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,  
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,  
That I scarce was sure I heard you."

Sirius cautiously got up and crossed the suddenly eerily quiet room.

**-here I opened wide the door;-**

"Okay, this is starting to get freaky."

**Darkness there and nothing more.**

**Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,  
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;  
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,  
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, **"Ivory** – **I mean, Lenore?"  
**This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"  
Merely this and nothing more.**

Sirius looked around a bit longer, a chill creeping up his spine. "Mm, I don't think I like this poem anymore."

**Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,  
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.**

"Yipe!" Sirius dove behind his chair again, the only cover provided for the spooked Grim animagus. He peered over the one of the arms, "Surely," **said I,** "surely that is something at my window lattice;  
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery I'd rather not explore-  
Urg, let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-  
'T is the wind and nothing more! God, please let it be the wind and nothing more!"

**Open here I flung the shutter,  
when, with many a flirt and flutter,**

Upon enacting this, something completely unexpected happened. Instead of a small raven, a grown man, dressed in a ratty raven costume, clambered through the window and stumbled into the room, almost gracefully knocking Sirius and himself to the floor.

"Son of lousy mother…" The man, or mostly man, grumbled, brushing off the invisible dust on his wings.

Sirius shook his head, snapping his jaw shut as he had been gaping at the figure as if he were a two-headed monster. "Romeo? What are you doing here?"

Romeo stopped in mid dust off on one of his wings, regarding Sirius as if he'd just noticed he was there. "What, you don't think I'm cultured?" he snapped. Then he said before Sirius could give an answer, "Well you're right, I'm not! Jas suckered me into it."

"How?"

"Eh, something about sandwiches and sex – Don't worry about it!" he shouted. "Lets get this crap over wit, I got better things to do."

**In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;  
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;  
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-**  
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-

Romeo, still grumbling out probabilities, maneuvered his way to the best of his abilities – the raven suit was not very flexible, and situated himself on top of the statue. "Whew!" he panted.

**Perched, and sat, and nothing more.**

"Well no shit," Romeo said under his breath.

**Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,  
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,**

"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," **I said,** "art sure no craven,  
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore-  
Tell me what they lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"

"Who you callin' ghastly fool!?" said Romeo indignantly.

Sirius rolled his eyes, "Don't be so sensitive. It's just apart of the poem."

"Well, can't you change it?"

"No."

"Bet you could if you tried."

"Just say you're part!"

**Quoth the Raven,** "Oh yeah… Nevermore."

**Much I marveled the ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,  
Though its answer little meaning-little relevancy bore;  
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being**  
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-  
**Bird or beast upon the culptured bust above his chamber door,  
With such name as "Nevermore."**

**But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only  
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.  
Nothing farther then he uttered-not a feather then he fluttered-  
Till I scarcely more than muttered,** "Other friends have flown before-  
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."

**Romeo snorted**, "Nevermore."

**Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,**  
"Doubtless," **said I,** "what it utters is its only stock and store  
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster  
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-  
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden more  
Of 'Never-nevermore.'"

**But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,  
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;  
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking  
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-  
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore  
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."**

"Hey man, you need to back up off me a little bit!" Romeo exclaimed in surprise, unnerved at how long they had been in the odd staring contest, though it was only six seconds. "Why you so close?"

Sirius shrugged, though he did move as far back as the chairs seat would let him, "I dunno, its what the monologue said to do."

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer  
**Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.**  
"Wretch," **I cried,** "thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent thee  
Respite-respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;  
Quaff, oh, quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"

Romeo's eyebrows rose, "Are you politely asking me to leave."

"I think that's what is implied in the poem."

"Huh. Well here's a nice little poem for ya." He cleared his throat, "Kick me out you shant go through for deep inside you know its true  
that my company is wanted up here on yo chamber door  
My ass ain't leavin', Nevermore.

Sirius nodded his approval, "Not bad, not bad."

Romeo smiled cockily, "Course it ain't. It's by me after all."

"Let me try that. Ahem…Don't be stupid you jacked up crow for you and I both know that it'd be better if by the neck I threw you off my chamber door  
Now if you don't mind pack your stuff, cause frankly I have had enough  
Your stupidity I will deal with Nevermore.

"Oh yeah, well two can play at that game! Black you know you must be trippin' or is it alchy-hol you be sippin'  
It's so sad that you'd be subjected to such an allure  
You'd best be careful of what you say, this raven is quite murderous today  
You know I can kill you, before you hit the chamber floor…

Romeo grabbed Sirius by the collar of his robes, "I'm still psychotic, all the more."

**Ahem, I hate to be the one who's spoken, though your poetry gives a token  
To Edgar Allan Poe's work, but I must implore**  
The Raven is not correctly said correctly written, so I ask therein that you say this of the right accord…

Romeo let go of Sirius' robes, to said wizards relief. They both looked around the room nervously. This was the first time the ominous narrator had addressed them directly.

Romeo gulped, "Um, what if we don't?" he tried to say bravely.

There was a pause, then…

You will leave this room…Nevermore.

Sirius and Romeo's eyes widened, they exchanged fearful glances. "Shall we continue?"

"Let's."

**Quoth the Raven,** "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" **said I, **"thing of evil!-prophet still, if bird or devil!-  
By that Heaven that bends above us-by that God we both adore-  
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant  
Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-  
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."

Sirius panted, "Jeez, that's a lot to say. Can I take a break?"

NO! IF YOU DON'T FINISH THIS POEM YOU WILL ALL SUFFER A PAIN WORSE THEN DEATH!!

"I think you've made the narrator guy mad," Romeo whispered none to subtly.

I HEARD THAT! THE SAME IS UNTO YOU GOAT MAN!!

Romeo gaped indignantly. "Damn, someone's grouchy."

**Quoth the Raven,** "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" **I shrieked, upstarting-**  
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!  
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!  
Leave my loneliness unbroken!-quit the bust above my door!  
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"

**Quoth the Raven**, "Nevermore."

"What? You're supposed to get off now!?"

"Why don't you make me."

"Fine!" Sirius stomped over to the fireplace and picked up a long silver poker. He swung it at Romeo, but the Devlin dressed as a bird jumped out of the way onto one of the book cases. "Hey! Come back here!"

He chased him around and around, Romeo jumping from bookcase to bookcase while Sirius swatted the large volumes off the shelves and hit nothing but air. Finally, several books fell on top of him, one particularly large one conking him on the head. "Ow," he said faintly, and fell onto a pile of books with swirly eyes, Romeo cracking up from above him.

"Who's the jacked up crow now huh!? Bru hahahahhahah!!!"

**And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting  
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;  
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,  
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;  
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor **

Shall be lifted-nevermore!

THE END

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A/N: Heh, this was fun to write. Did it all in one day, so forgive the quality. Hope you enjoyed! Review's would be greatly appreciated!


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